


.we don't have to figure out what hasn't happened yet.

by bird_on_a_wire



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Character Death Implications, Comfort, F/M, Gisela means business, Haircuts, Hot Men Bathing, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Prophetic Visions, Runes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bird_on_a_wire/pseuds/bird_on_a_wire
Summary: Finan knows these moments are just reflections of her inherent kindness and nothing more, but he collects them, holds onto them tightly for when even the most inventive whores in Lundene cannot distract his loneliness.Takes place just before Season 3, Episode 1.
Relationships: Finan/Gisela/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	.we don't have to figure out what hasn't happened yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry in advance. Writing this fic hurt as much as it will likely hurt you to read it.

In another life, Finan always kept his hair long. Maybe he wouldn't admit it aloud, but he'd always been a little proud of how thick and dark his hair was. Sometimes, on special occasions, he'd wear it braided or tied back, but for the most part, he left if loose and wild, a bit like him. 

When Conal had sold him to Sverri, he had fought with Sverri's men to not cut his hair. How young and proud and stupid he'd been. It wasn't even a year before the seawater and wind had ruined his hair. His hair had been the least of his concern by then. It had been replaced by the constant ache in his belly. It reminds him as he rows with blisters covering his hands, his skin burnt and chapped from the sun. 

He remembered the day Uhtred, Osbert then, came on board the ship with Halig. Uhtred's hair was still long then, dark, and Finan had been able to tell even then that Uhtred was someone. He couldn't say for sure, but he had that look of him like a man determined to return to a life worth living. Finan didn't have anything to return to. His wife hated him, his children cursed him, his love was dead. So many times in those first three years before he met Uhtred, he longed to join her, to be out of this misery that had become his entire existence. 

After they were rescued by Ragnar, it took almost a week before Finan allowed Hild to cut it. Every slice of the small sharp blade felt like a part of his life before Sverri being cut away. His hands couldn't stop shaking as he sat in front of her. His hands were so damaged. Blisters so large his fingers ached when he closed them, the backs tanned and burnt by the sun until his skin peeled, and then that skin burnt. 

"We'll go slow," Hild had said to him in that soft, gentle tone of hers. He'd made it through two pieces of hair before he began to cry. His tears stung the cracked and peeling skin on his cheeks, but Finan couldn't stop himself. He cried for his love, memories raw with the painful image of her lifeless body seared into his mind. Finan had brought that on her, stupid, foolish boy he'd once been. He cried for his children, who would inherit a legacy of the shame he had wreaked upon them. When Hild asked why Finan wept, it was easier to say he'd once been a vain prince who loved his hair. He knew that she saw through him, and yet she did not press nor prod. She simply continued until the weight of his hair was less, and he could breathe. 

Gisela, even more than Uhtred, believed in the constant washing of bodies and cutting of hair. She'd line up all the men, and everyone would be marched into the lake, scrubbing themselves down with soap as Gisela stood on the shore, barking out commands that rivalled Uhtred in battle. After when they were all clean and scrubbed just about raw, she would lead them back into the square at Coccham where she and some of the other women would trim the men's hair and beards. 

Uhtred was always first. "You will set the example, my love." She had said when she'd first presented the idea to Uhtred. Finan had been going over plans for new fortifications for Coccham with Uhtred, and he'd laughed under his breath. But she'd heard him, and she turned sharp to look at him, her hands on her hips. "You'll be there too. This is getting out of hand." She'd reached over and sunk her fingers into his beard, tugging sharply until he yelped. "You could hide a dead weasel in here." Uhtred had laughed until there were tears in his eyes. Then he'd scooped his wife up over his shoulder, to her delight, and carried her off to bed. That was the first time Gisela had touched him. 

On bathing day, as Gisela had referred to it, Finan often found himself watching the two of them, Uhtred and Gisela, as she tended to him. You could see it in Uhtred's face, the way his wife's touch calmed him. The way she took her time brushing his hair, her fingers rebraiding his braids, surprising him with a new bead or two. When she was finished, he would pull her onto his lap and kiss her, in full view of everyone. The crowd would hoot and clap, and Uhtred would make a show of sending the next man in his place with a strict warning that should they try to kiss his wife after she cut their hair, she was likely to stab them. 

Gisela always cut Finan's hair last. Usually, it was dry by the time she got to him, and she'd make him tip his head back, pouring a few cupfuls of water over his hair, running her fingers through the strands to make sure they were wet. She would also tease him about having hair thicker than a horse's mane, but she takes her time, and Finan is grateful for it. Because there are few things that Finan misses more than the affectionate touch of a woman. He has his share of whores in Winchester or Lundene, but it's not really the same thing. Those women slake a need in him, but it's a momentary relief at best. There is nothing about their touch that is meaningful or memorable, and their faces all seem the same. They are a warm place to bury oneself when the loneliness threatens to overtake him. 

Finan knows he has done enough unforgivable acts in his life that he ruined his chances to be happy. That is a lot in life he has had to make his peace with. He does not expect to find a love like he had with the girl in Irland, nor the kind of love he sees flows between Uhtred and Gisela.

But he takes these small doses of Gisela's kindness whenever he can get them, and it's not just on the day she cut his hair. It's when she mends his shirts along with Uhtred's. It's how she always makes sure he is served food directly after Uhtred, a courtesy she does not need to afford him, but yet she does it anyway. And at night when he and Uhtred sit by the fire talking, she bids them both goodnight. She touches his shoulder and brushes an affectionate kiss to his temple before going to Uhtred and kissing him goodnight. Finan knows these moments are just reflections of her inherent kindness and nothing more, but he collects them, holds onto them tightly for when even the most inventive whores in Lundene cannot distract his loneliness. 

Over the years, Finan has had many hair cuts, and today, standing naked in the River Thames is no different. Waist deep in water too cold for his liking, he stands next to Uhtred as they, and most of Coccham's men, wash with the soap the women have made. In her usual spot on the shore, Gisela stalks along the bank, her lengthy hair pulled up into a braided bun to keep the weight of it off her neck, her swollen belly almost full to bursting with her's and Uhtred's third child. 

"She's in a right feisty mood this mornin', Lord," Finan says, as Uhtred passes him the pot of soap. 

"You do not know the half of it. I have not slept in days," grumbles Uhtred. There is no reason for Uhtred or Finan to indeed be in the river, as they bathe fairly regularly out of habit, but like all those years ago, Gisela says they must set an example for the men.

"Problems in paradise, Lord?" He tosses the soap to Osferth, and he and Uhtred wade out just slightly away from the crowd. "Is Gisela in pain?"

Uhtred sinks under the water to rinse himself and then pops back up, pushing the hair and water out of his eyes. "I cannot believe I am saying this, Finan, but it is the opposite." Finan looks at him, unclear in Uhtred's meaning. "She is..." The Dane struggles for the right word, and for the first time in many years, Finan sees Uhtred flustered. "She cannot be...satisfied," he finally hisses. He looks towards the shore, where his wife is currently yelling at Osferth to wash beneath his arms and shakes his head. "Finan, sometimes it is three or four times in a night. And every time she peaks, I swear she says, "again." I am exhausted." 

Finan chokes out a laugh, pretending to cough when Gisela's attention is drawn back to them. 

"Enough with your horseplay!" Gisela yells, pointing at them. "Your balls are just as dirty as everyone else's, so get to washing them!" 

Uhtred turns to Finan with a pointed look. "Do you see what I mean?" 

When it is finally Finan's turn, she motions for him to sit on the stool in front of her. He pulls off his shirt she'd made for him at Midsummer and settles into his seat. "Don't get too excited with that blade," he says, as she runs her fingers through his hair, assessing the length. "I'm not quite ready to have the same haircut as Lord Uhtred." 

"Do you not think by now I do not know what you like, Finan?" Gisela asks, tilting her head as she looks down at him. 

"Aye, Lady. But you're as ornery as the cow today." 

Gisela laughs, and her fingers tighten in his hair for a moment before she sighs and releases them. "I feel as though I am as big as the cow." 

She touches his hair for a long time before she finally makes the first cut, not that Finan minds. But there is something different about the way she touches him. Her touches have grown longer, softer. And the teasing tone that they often banter with is nowhere to be found. 

"You do know how important you are to him, do you not?" Her question surprises Finan. He shrugs, about to comment that all the men are all important to Uhtred in their own way, but she puts a firm hand on the back of his neck. "You and I both know that is not true. He is going to need you, more than you know." 

Finan turns, a rule of haircutting that Gisela does not like to be broken, and looks at her with worry. He can tell plainly that she is not herself. "Lady?" 

"All is well, Finan. But trust my words, and promise me you will always be here for him?" 

"Ye needn't ask, Lady. I've no plans to go anywhere." 

"Good. Good." She brushes her fingers along his neck, brushing away the bits of hair as she cuts them, but her touch sends a shiver along Finan's spine, and his skin pebbles from it. 

He knows Gisela often consults her runes, the tiny small bag always tied at her hip to her belt. The runes were carved from a small sapling, each lovingly inscribed by Gisela. Each character stained with her own blood. When he'd first seen her do this, he'd thought she was touched in the head. But Gisela had made him sit down and watch her do each one of them as she explained them, as she 'bound them to her spirit.' Gisela had asked him how it was different from the sacrifices of his nailed god, and when he'd sputtered for an answer, she had smiled and patted his cheek. 

"Are ye sure yer alright?" He asks. "Uhtred says ye've not been sleeping…" 

"Oh, is that what he told you? Did he tell you anything else?" She uses her hand to draw his face up to look at her, her eyebrows raised in question. 

Finan winks, and Gisela huffs, but she's laughing as she pushes his face away and continues working on his hair, muttering something in Danish. 

#

It is late when Gisela comes downstairs to find Finan and Uhtred sitting by the fire. Uhtred is still getting used to having the sides of his head shaved. Finan can tell because he keeps rubbing his fingers over absently as he speaks. Gisela gives Finan's shoulder a quick squeeze as she walks by before she settles down on Uhtred's lap, sighing in relief. 

"Tired?" Uhtred asks her, his hands coming up to rub her shoulders. Usually, Finan would head to his quarters shortly, but he's had a couple of cups of the strong ale they don't have in the alehouse, and it's made him lazy. 

"My feet are sore. You will have to rub them later," Gisela says, but Finan pats his thigh. 

"Come on, put 'em up 'ere."

Gisela laughs but takes off her slippers and rests her feet on Finan's thigh. Her feet seem small and warm in his hands. He kneads her foot slowly, rubbing his knuckle deep in her arch and squeezing her heel between his thumb and finger. 

Gisela lets out a satisfied moan. "I am so very lucky to have both of you," she says, her hand coming up to rest on top of Uhtred's over her shoulder. She tilts her head up to look at Uhtred, and he nods, kissing her forehead. 

"We are pretty useful to have around, are we not, Finan?" Uhtred asks, looking over at Finan. He likes to see Uhtred like this as if for a few moments he's forgotten about the Danes north of them, and the Saxons south of them, and they can just enjoy a bloody moment of peace. 

Finan laughs in agreement, switching to Gisela's other foot. "Aye, Lord." 

"You could be more useful," Gisela says, and they laugh, but she's looking at them with raised eyebrows. 

"What?" Uhtred asks, and Finan feels just as confused as Uhtred looks. 

"The two of you are so blind." 

"To what, lady?" Finan asks, as Gisela pulls her feet away from him and struggles to stand in front of them. She touches Uhtred's jaw with one hand, and Finan's the other and turns their heads to look at one another. Uhtred's eyes are bright and clear, his mouth opens just the slightest as Finan looks at him and looks at him. And at that moment, Finan relives every word spoken between them, every touch, every look, every intention. 

Uhtred drags his eyes away from Finan and looks up at his wife, the struggle of confusion apparent. "Gisela…" 

"Hush." She presses her fingers to his mouth. "Less talking…" She leans down to kiss him, and Finan watches with fascination at the power of her kiss, the way she subdues Uhtred's fears and worries with a simple brush of her lips. 

She pulls away from him and turns her face to Finan, her palm still warm on his cheek as she closes her mouth over his. For a moment, Finan thinks he must have passed out, drunk too much of the strong ale for this moment to actually be happening. But then she's pulling away from him, and he blinks open, and there's a sudden moment of panic when he looks at Uhtred because he's just kissed Uhtred's wife but what he finds in Uhtred's eyes is not anger or malice or even jealousy. It's a reflection of Finan's own realization. 

"Come," Gisela says, and they both turn to look at her. She looks so very pleased with herself, and she crooks her finger at them as she walks towards the stairs. Finan and Uhtred both stand, and Finan wonders if Uhtred is having the same momentary panic of assessment with this energy they've both been avoiding for years. "Don't keep me waiting," Gisela calls out as she ascends the stairs. 

Uhtred moves to follow her, but Finan finds his voice, though it's rough and a little hoarse, "Lord." Uhtred turns to him, crossing the distance between them in less than a beat, his hand coming up to cup the back of Finan's neck with a protective and predatory grip. Their brows touch first, and Finan can feel the heat of Uhtred's breath on his mouth. "What are we doin'?" Finan asks because he needs this from Uhtred, this direction, this leadership. Their dynamic has changed suddenly, spun on its axis, and yet there is familiarity in Uhtred's touch, in the feeling building in Finan's chest. 

"I believe Gisela intends for us both to go upstairs and bed her." Uhtred whispers, a laugh that although nervous sets Finan slightly at ease.

"And ye want to...share her? With me?" 

Uhtred's hand tightens on the back of Finan's neck slightly, and Finan braces for whatever might come, but he does not expect it to be Uhtred's other hand over his chest. "Finan. We are more than brothers. We are bonded in a way no one but us can hope to understand. I was a fool to keep you at arm's length as long as I have, but I do not choose to share Gisela with you. It is Gisela who chooses to share me with you. She has always been able to see the things I could not. And I have never been more grateful than at this moment." 

"Aye," Finan whispers, and he finds the quiet courage in his heart to press his hand against Uhtred's chest, comforted by the steady thump-thump of Uhtred's heart. "As am I." 

Uhtred kisses him softly, nothing too long or deep, but it's the whisper of a promise for more to come as they part. Uhtred motions for them to go to Gisela, his hand on Finan's back the whole way, as if he knows Finan's about to lose his nerve. 

Finan has never backed down from a battle, has never once second-guessed a moment to draw his sword or seax, nor has he ever turned tail and run from a fight. But he is petrified the moment Uhtred opens the doors to his chambers he shares with Gisela and all but pushes Finan inside. 

The room is lit with candles, and Gisela is lying back in the middle of their bed. In the mound of furs, she looks like an empress. In Finan's mind, she is a goddess to be worshipped by those who love her most. Because he does love her, in whatever small way he is afforded. He loves them both, and the realization of that is almost startling, giving him pause as Uhtred walks toward the bed, already shedding his clothes as he climbs in next to his wife. 

"Finan, come," Gisela says, holding out her hand to him. Her request is more of a statement and who has Finan been to ever deny the tenets of his deities. He looks over his shoulder to make sure the door is shut and steps slowly toward the bed. Uhtred lies naked on the bed next to Gisela, and although Finan has seen Uhtred naked many times before, through this sudden heady awareness between them, everything feels like a new experience. He pulls his tunic over his head, his trousers slipping over his hips and down his legs. He takes Gisela's outstretched hand in his and lets her draw him into the bed with them. 

#

In the morning, Finan wakes just before sunrise. His muscles are tender, but in that right sort of ache, all the previous night's memories come rushing back to you. Next to him, Uhtred is asleep, sprawled on his back, one arm flopped over his face. Finan lets out a breath, stretching his arms above his head, scratching his chest. Last night there were so many things that this morning Finan struggles to name just one emotion. Scary at first, knowing there was no going back after this, but that had quickly faded away as need and desire made way for more powerful emotions. 

_Gisela._ Beautiful, perfect, all-knowing Gisela. Finan has to smile as his cock twitches when he thinks about the night before. She'd been a goddess between them. Her body loving both him and Uhtred so completely, her body encouraging them to love each other in a way they had never contemplated before. Finan wonders how he has spent so long in Uhtred's company without touching him like he did last night, without Uhtred touching him back.

A noise from the doorway jar his thoughts, and Finan looks over to see Gisela slipping into the bedroom. He looks to space next to Uhtred to find it empty, and he realizes she must have left without either of them waking. 

"Alright?" he asks, in a low whisper. Gisela nods, pulling her shawl tighter around her. She comes around to the side of the bed where Finan lies. "I had to attend to something," Gisela says, as Finan gently pushes Uhtred toward the edge of the bed, and the Dane mumbles something as he roles over, sticking his head under a pillow. She climbs into the bed, her body sliding next to Finan, his arm resting beneath her head like a pillow. 

"Did you sleep?" she asks, as they kiss softly. A part of Finan still feels odd, kissing the wife of his Lord. But last night there had been things said, promises made that meant the three of them, in whatever form, were free to love each other. And now, with sunrise barely on the horizon, Finan is as much _hers_ as Uhtred is. 

"I did." Finan runs his knuckles along the swell of her breast and smoothes his hand over her swollen belly. "You wore me out." 

"I cannot take all the credit," Gisela laughs softly, nodding her head where her husband sleeps behind them. "Do not," she chastises, when Finan looks at her with a hint of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. "It was beautiful to watch the two of you. The two men I love most." Gisela's eyes flood and she bites her lip. Shaking her head when Finan looks at her with concern in his eyes. "It is nothing. Tears of joy." She kisses him harder then, urgent and breathless, pushing him onto his back as she climbs astride him. 

Her movement rouses Uhtred, who lifts the pillow to look at the two of them. "Mmm, now there is a sight." He turns over, propping himself up on one elbow, content to watch them for the moment. It is only a matter of seconds before Finan finds himself reaching for Uhtred and pulling him into their fray. 

#

"A fortnight," Uhtred confirms, clasping Finan's arm with his hand. "Just to get Gisela and the children settled with Thyra. I will convince Alfred to march. Then we will meet you at Aweltun. Keep your eyes on Bloodhair."

"Lord, you have my word," Finan says, but Uhtred's hand tightens on his arm and there is a new awareness in Uhtred’s eyes.

"Be careful." 

"I swear." 

Uhtred nods, patting Finan on the back as they head toward where Gisela is waiting for them. Uhtred moves to talk to Sihtric, leaving Finan and Gisela to stand alone next to Finan's horse. 

"Be well," she says, taking his hands in her. From where they stand, the horse blocks the view of any prying eyes, and he draws her hands to his mouth. Kissing the backs of each hand. 

She reaches into the small bag on her hip and holds out a small leather drawstring bag. "I need you to take these." 

Finan's chest tightens. "Your runes?" He knows the significance of these tokens and what they mean to her, to Uhtred. 

"For when Uhtred needs them." She says, closing his hand over them, her hand on top of his. 

"Gisela, I am no seer," he says, uncertain as to her meaning. 

"For safekeeping only," she says, and she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "When the time is right, you will know."

Finan tucks them inside his leathers, but the uncertainty does not leave him as he mounts his ride, nor when he waves briefly to Uhtred as Gisela stands at his side, and still as he rides north from Coccham he feels it tight and deep in his chest.


End file.
